Our Last?
by My Vantilene
Summary: If today were to be our last, these words, our final...would a stolen kiss be our only? Sigyn x Rygart


Disclaimer: I do not own Break Blade/Broken Blade.

_My first Break Blade fic, so be gentle. Also, this is the second fic of this fandom in existence. I am appalled by that fact and I urge other authors to make some more. Albeit, this is just a one-shot, a short one-shot at that, but at least it's something._

Sigyn Ester woke up breathless for the umpteenth time that week. A thin layer of sweat covered her forehead and a thin veil of shoddy hair skewed over it, sticking to her skin. Her hands were clamped to her bed sheets in anger and clandestine regret she never showed to anyone. She looked up at the stars, their magnificent glowing complexion casting a shadow on her own. She allowed herself to smile at their reassuring presence for a split second before remembering the dream she had escaped from moments ago. It was another one about Rygart, of course, all the other nights prior had been about him. She used to get them really bad after he had left. But she slowly built up an immunity to them and they eventually stopped completely. She stopped thinking about her lost love and focused on the war brimming beyond their borders, that was sure to eventually come to boil over them. She threw herself into her work that way, studying charts and spending her days pretending to learn how to handle the gun that never really was full of bullets.

Then he came back. And it started all over again. But this time it was worse. Because there was a large chance he could die performing his current occupation. Each day with him could be her last, each sentence, their final, and if she dared to steal a kiss, she feared it would be their only.

Her marriage with Hodr had been so sudden, she had just rushed into it, feeling heartbroken when Rygart left. But now, it was something she was going to have to live with. Something she would have to endure. She let out a grunt of frustration and sat up, wadding the coverlet off of her and clumping it to one side. She swung her feet over and winced as the cold, alabaster tile connected with her skin. Biting her lip, she was able to stand up and quickly pace over to the rug, where it was certainly warmer. Her eyes flitted to the door, and she quickly darted for it, wanting to be anywhere but there for a moment. As she scurried down the shadowy hall, she could feel the pale light of the moon hum with life as it guided the way down the corridor and to the winding stair. But, as it turns out, the moon was a guide full of deception. In the middle of her sprint to the stair case, she ran into a lanky figure. They both went skidding to the floor in opposite directions. She turned to see, as fate would have it, none other than Rygart sitting there, hastily attempting to pick up the papers that had flown out of his hands upon impact.

"I'm so sorry," she began, scuttling to catch some of the papers before the wind carried them too far, "Here, let me help you." She inwardly face-palmed herself for going with the notorious, helpless-romantic cliché.

"Thanks." He muttered, scooping some into a manila folder, "But what are you doing out here, at this hour, without your coat on? It must me thirty degrees out here."

"Well, I, uh, I just wanted some fresh air…" Yet another cliché.

"Doesn't explain why you were running…" he murmured as the last of the papers were picked up. He stood up and brushed himself off, then turned to her and held out a hand. She tried to calm down her blush as she took it and rose to her feet.

"Just stretching my legs…" she giggled, her voice sounding light and damaged.

"Is something wrong?' he questioned, placing two hands on her shoulder, and staring her down with concern dousing his sharp ceruleans.

She tucked her head on her shoulder and looked away from his perusing glare, shyly giving off a noise of apology.

"Sigyn, you can tell me." He took his hands off her shoulder and used one hand to cup her chin, moving it to face him, "You can tell me anything."

"It's – it's nothing…honestly…"

He gave her a disbelieving look, but finally offered, "You want me to walk you back to your room?"

"It's just down that hall, Rygart, I think I'll be fine."

"Well, I'm not fine. If you don't mind, would you walk me to my room...?"

Was he being serious?

"Um, no, I don't mind..."

"Good. It's right over here."

The whole walk they shared to his quarters, it was just like old times again. They were laughing and talking, sharing stories and old memories, nostalgia filling both of their smiles as they reminisced. She conversed about the good books she had read, and he told her about how life on the farm had been without her. It made the two both forget about their current quandaries, their positions, hers as queen, his as the pilot of the Delphine, and for that minute amount of time, they were both just free souls, spilling their guts. By the end of the walk, there was so much they were able to get off their chests, but also so much that was yet to be said.

"I guess this is the end of our walk." Rygart smiled, what seemed to her, a taunting smile.

"I guess so…" she sighed.

"So are you angry anymore?"

"About what?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure, but you said if I returned home safely you wouldn't be angry anymore."

"That is true. And don't worry. I'm not angry. But, if today were to be our last, these words, our final…"

"All of that could be true…but I can promise you one thing." He smiled and leaned in closer, delivering a kiss right on the tip of her lips, making her give off an innocent yelp in pleasant surprise, "That will not be our only." He brushed her messy bangs out of her face, and caressed her chin, smiling when he looked into her eyes. And with that last touch, he dematerialized, vanishing into the darkness.

_AN:_

_Sweet fluff, yes, I know. Now please review, it makes me so happy when you do! Please! I might even add on to this one-shot if you guys do..._


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